Zeke's leftovers
by Shannanigans
Summary: Story from a prompt over on LJ. Dean realizes that while healing Sam, Zeke leaves an unpleasant gift, each time he takes over. Set around season nine's Slumber Party. Pointless Sam whump!


Charlie and Dorothy had left a little while ago. Dean insisted that Sam rest while he cleaned up all of the glass in the garage. Sam didn't argue this time, he felt the pounding in his head starting up again. He didn't want to tell Dean because he didn't want to worry his brother. He was finally seeing Sam as "getting better" as the trials were a thing of the past. Sam hoped he could sleep it off this time. He entered his blessedly cool room and laid on the hard, lumpy mattress. _Wow. This _is_ uncomfortable._ _Maybe Dean was right about this one thing_, he thought as he drifted off.

Sam woke to a migraine so severe, he headed straight to the bathroom. He knew what tended to happen next. On his way, he grabbed a bottle of painkillers from the cabinet. The good stuff. The MOL bathroom was large. He needed it to be dark, but it was so very, very dark! He'd never find the toilet he was sure he'd need, the acid in his stomach jumping in time to the pounding in his head, reminding him of the necessity. Sam turned the flashlight from his phone on and left it on the far side of the bathroom on a sink. Whimpering, he sat himself carefully onto the tiles in front of the closest toilet and begged silently for it all to stop.

After about 20 minutes, Sam was feeling desperate. The pounding was not letting up. Neither was the nausea. Fumbling in the dark, he found the pill bottle with the painkillers. Unsure whether he could keep them down, but unable to stand his current situation, Sam attempted the child-proof cap. _This is way harder than it should be_, he thought as he whimpered. Finally the bottle burst open, sending pills flying all over the place. Sam managed to grab two and swallow them dry. The gurgling in his stomach did not let up. Desperate and determined to keep them down so he could finally feel some relief, Sam laid down on his back and let the cold bathroom help him to drift off.

SPN**SPN**SPN**SPN**SPN**SPN**SPN**SPN

Dean had stopped in the kitchen for a beer on his way back from the garage. Popping off the cap, he strolled to the library, half expecting to run into Sam. _Maybe he actually listened to me this time and is resting_, Dean thought hopefully. He turned down the hallway where Sam's room was located, hoping to find his little brother recuperating. The bedside lamp was on, but no Sam.

"Sam?" Dean called out down the hallway. Nothing.

"Sammy?" Dean called a little louder, a little more nervously.

As he turned the corner, Dean saw a faint light coming from the MOL bathroom. Not caring much about privacy, he needed to check on his little brother, he walked in and flipped on the main light.

"No no no nonononononononono…" What he saw… was his Sammy, lying on the bathroom floor, holding an empty pill bottle. There were pills haphazardly placed all around Sam.

_He wouldn't. Not now_, Dean thought as he raced to his brother's side. He pulled Sam up into his lap and cradled his head. "Sammy? Come on, man. Answer me! Sam?!" Dean checked Sam's pulse. It was there. A little slow, but there. Feeling more than a little scared, Dean then pulled up one of Sam's eyelids. Sam jerked suddenly, burying his face into Dean's chest. He moaned loudly, then grabbed at his hair, pulling. Sam slurred, "It hurss. It hurss!"

Not sure what was going on, Dean grabbed for Sam's face again, asking, "what hurts, Sammy?"

"M…my…"was all Sam was able to get out before vomiting down the front of Dean's shirt. Now, normally this would make Dean "sympathy vomit" right back onto Sam, but he needed some answers first.

"Sam. Sam! How many did you take?" Dean held the empty pill bottle up to Sam's squinted eyes.

"T…two, De…why?" Sam's eyes were closed again.

"Hey! Sam. Look at me. How many?" Dean was prying Sam's eyes open again, not caring if he caused a repeat performance of vomiting.

Sam pushed Dean's hands away from his face and opened his bleary eyes fully, looking up at his brother. He cleared his throat and wiped a hand down his face. "Dean. Isss a migraine. I took two of the 'good' stuff and laid on the floor. Didn' wanna bother you, but I jus'… feel so bad."

Dean looked down and brushed Sam's hair out of his face again. He looked into Sam's eyes once more. "Man, you scared the crap outta me! I find you, passed out on the floor with an empty pill bottle in your hand! I thought… I thought…" he couldn't finish the sentence.

Sam looked back at Dean weepily, through bleary eyes, his bottom lip out slightly. "I couldn' get the lid off… Damn child-proof caps."

Dean laughed quietly and ran his hand down Sam's face again. "What have I told ya, Sammy? You'll be able to get the pill bottles open when you are a big boy!"

Sam smiled and tried to prop himself up using Dean. He fell back when his hands met wet, disgusting vomit. "Eww! Dean?!"

"Don't blame me man, you're the one who barfed all over me. This is your present. Not mine." Dean laughed.

Sam flinched at the sound and grabbed for his head. The migraine had lessened tremendously, but was still there. "Ugh, Dean. Can you turn off the light?"

Dean felt terrible. "Oh, uh. Yeah, man. Hang on a minute." Dean gently moved Sam back to the floor and grabbed a washcloth from the edge of the sink, wetting it and putting it over Sam's eyes. "We gotta get you out of these clothes man. You stink." He placed his hand over the washcloth on Sam's eyes. "You've got one job right now. You keep this on your eyes, okay Sammy?" Sam nodded.

Carefully and slowly, Dean helped Sam out of his messy clothes until he was down to his boxers. Dean then grabbed a MOL robe and helped Sam put it on. (Dean had recently washed them and had used awesome fabric softener so they were super soft and comfy… Never mind…)

He helped Sam back to his own room and laid him on Dean's comfortable bed. He turned off the light and left the door cracked so a bit of light from the hall could come in. He hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of tepid water, crackers, and more painkillers. The "really good" ones this time. He knew the "good" ones upset Sam's stomach. Why didn't Sam?

Dean paused and thought about asking Zeke to make Sam feel better, but stopped when he realized that Sam had had a bad headache the last time Zeke took over. Holding onto the door frame, he choked out "This is _my_ fault." Not sure if it was possible to feel any worse, Dean walked back to his room. He helped a whimpering Sam sit up, take pills and a bite of cracker to help with his stomach. Dean grabbed a chair and sat next to the bed in the dark. Just when he thought Sam was sleeping soundly, Sam whispered, "sorry De. Didn' mean to scare ya. M'not goin' anywhere. Damn child proof capsss." With that, Sam sighed and fell asleep.

Dean tried to remain stoic. "I'm saving him. I'm saving him. This is for his own good." Dean whispered over and over, not bothering to wipe away the guilty tears that fell.

Prompt 1: One bad thing about Gadreel popping in and out as he pleases is it always leaves Sam with a horrible migraine after the fact.


End file.
